


Coffee and a Dream

by GleefulMayhem



Category: Fake News RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 08:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/281058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GleefulMayhem/pseuds/GleefulMayhem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Valentine's weekend, and Jon doesn't want to leave Stephen's apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee and a Dream

It was a normal night as Stephen kept telling himself -- except, to him, it wasn't.

He had been nursing a more-than-just-a-crush on his boss and best friend for the past few months, and had figured that today, February thirteenth would be a good day to confess, for obvious reasons.

Stephen was lucky it was a Friday, a day they both had off, and that tomorrow would be free for the two of them as well. As a Friday, it was their usual handout day. They would normally go to the mall and watch the petty little humans, coming up with fake identities for the strangers, as they ate their way towards cardiac arrest. At about six, they would go to one of their apartments -- “Your place or mine?” Jon would often tease -- get the popcorn and over-sized Snuggie, and watch The Rachel Maddow Show before making fun of a made-for-TV film or two.

But, as fate would have it, this weekend would be different. The Show demanded Jon get a haircut, leaving Stephen alone with his thoughts until Jon came over to Stephen’s at five.

-.-.-

*DINGDONG* Though barely audible, the doorbell echoed in Stephen’s ears, making him jump a foot or so into the air. “Hey,” said Jon, with an unfamiliar backpack slung over one shoulder.

“...What’s with the backpack? Are we going hiking?” laughed Stephen, hiding his concern that the bitch of a landlady finally kicked Jon out.

“Well, it’s Valentine’s weekend, so I didn’t want to expose myself to the elements until Monday…That is, if you don’t mind!” fretted Jon, waving his hands comically.

“Sure!” Stephen smiled, forgetting his plans to confess.

“But... since this is the last time I’ll see sunlight before Monday, can we go out to eat?” asked Jon with a trace of blush over his nose.

“Sounds good, just let me set a recording for Maddow and we’ll be on our way.” Stephen left the door open so Jon could help himself in, rather than make him wait in the cold.

Jon waited in the kitchenette, kicking his short legs as he sat on the tall bar-stool. When Stephen walked in, he couldn’t help but smile at Jon’s unintentional adorableness.

“Ready to go?” he asked, tossing a coat to Jon as he got one for himself.

Jon caught the jacket without thinking, “Huh? Yeah!” He snapped out of his laze and jumped off the stool with a soft thunk.

Stephen ushered Jon out the door with a hand on Jon’s lower back, and though he was blushing uncontrollably, he left it there lest Jon notice any movement of his part. Jon stayed close despite his touch as Stephen locked the apartment door.

Stephen immediately wished that he lived in a different neighborhood. Where he lived was slightly too conservative for him to be touching another man’s back in any manner.

Worried, Stephen removed his hand from Jon’s person and they continued walking to wherever their stomachs would take them.

-.-.-

Jon make no comment on Stephen’s hand touching his lower back as if he were female, what if Stephen was being overly protective? That and a million other excuses as to why Stephen would touch him in such a manner swam though Jon’s mind. When the hand was removed, Jon had just assumed Stephen had noticed his mistake and make no comment on it.

“So...” said Stephen after an unbearable silence, “Where do you want to eat for your ‘last supper’ of sorts?”

“Erika told me about this cafe on Central, if you’re up for hipsters staring at us as we eat cheap steak, that is,” Jon suggested.

“We’re from television! Of course they’d stare! I just wish I had worm my suit to frame my... charming smile!” Stephen made a pose, as if to prove his point. Jon held a hand to his face, trying to hide his laughter, but it was for naught because soon Jon was laughing with no self restraints -- though Stephen would call it giggling rather than laughing.

“Stop it, Jon. You’re hurting my feelings,” Stephen pretended to look hurt. In the back of his mind he wondered who this “Erika” was and how to get her away from HIS Jon. Jon only smiled in reply.

“Oh, Jon...”

“Yes?” Jon imitated the Queen.

“Who’s Erika?”

“My mother’s friend, why?”

“Oh! ...I-I hope she has good taste then.”

Jon grinned to himself as they continued down another of many streets.

-.-.-

Luckily for Jon and Stephen, there was a grand opening at a sushi restaurant across the street, so the cafe had relatively low traffic despite being Valentine’s Eve.

Once they were seated, the only view was of the mustard walls and a couple playing tonsil hockey, making for an uncomfortable atmosphere from Stephen’s point of view. But still, Stephen was determined to at the very least drop a hint to Jon about his feelings towards the giggling, though greying, man that sometimes made Stephen think of a schoolboy -- but if he told Jon as much Stephen would be sleeping on the couch, if only because Jon made him feel bad.

Something about the hearts and arrows floating invisibly in the air made it hard for Stephen to breathe. When the waiter came, they made their order, and that was it -- nothing to end the unwelcome silence. Stephen tapped his fingers rapidly on the table, exposing his irritation for himself.

“Is everything okay?” asked Jon. “If you’re not really okay with me staying over...”

“No! Nonono, Jon,” interrupted Stephen. “I have been withholding information, but so have you.”

Jon’s eyes widened. “W-what are you implying? Surely...”

“Surely WHAT, Jon?” began Stephen. But then he stopped himself. This was probably one of the WORST possible ways to confess, right after “I killed your boyfriend so we can be together!”. Stephen knew Jon deserved better. Stephen would would find a way to make Jon and him king and queen of the universe if he knew Jon wanted it, Stephen would do anything for his friend. He had to change the subject without letting Jon know.

“You shouldn’t have had to ask tonight if you could stay over. With the economy down the drain and our disposable income decreasing, we really should sell both our places and rent something nicer, maybe even a house,” Jon tried to interrupt him.

“No, Stewart, listen to me. We’d save money on housing, utilities, cab fare, even cable!”

“As much as I agree with your idea, I’d have to say this sounds like some bad porn plot.” Jon sent Stephen a boyish grin.

“I’m listening.”

Jon cleared his throat for his Queen of England voice, “‘Oh! Look at me! I’m being earth friendly -- let’s take a shower together to save water!’ Doesn’t this sound a bit cliche to you?”

“Now that you mention it...yes. But who doesn’t like sex?”

“As usual, you managed to completely miss the point.”

“Are you saying no to my plot -- I mean, plan?” Stephen stared at Jon, demanding an answer.

“I called it cliche, but I didn’t say no. You DO make a sound argument after all,” Jon grinned and rolled his eyes.

“YES!” Stephen jumped out his chair. He looked around, no one was paying attention, because no one cared. But Jon’s giggles made him feel self-conscious enough to make him seat himself quickly enough.

The empty plates were removed, leaving that much less matter between the two.

-.-.-

After Stephen’s beautifully outrageous offer, talking resumed normally between the two. Perhaps it was even more animated than usual -- from both of their excitement from the thought of moving in together, and the wine from dinner. Then, just as mother always told you, dessert came after dinner. They each received a sweet and coffee.

Stephen didn’t skip a beat, just picked up his fork and “--so then I told Sam,” took a bite of cake “ ’but I can do that,’ ” he put down his fork, picked up the coffee. Jon’s jaw slowly dropped as Stephen raised the cup to his lips. “ ‘--because Mr. Boss-man is my best friend and will do whatever I ask!” he finished, and took a sip of coffee.

“HOW CAN YOU DRINK THAT?” exclaimed Jon.

“It’s just coffee, Jon, you’ve had two cups a day every morning for over ten years. Are you okay?” Stephen raised his signature eyebrow.

“But not black!” Jon shrieked.

“Now, Jon, don’t be racist.”

“Oh, you know what I mean. You used to make my coffee every day, I--”

“It’s dark roast, two tablespoons whole milk, no sugar, whipped cream, and a cherry on top for fun. I KNOW, your coffee boy never gets it right, so I order it for him.”

“I gave him a raise!”

“Yeah, well I do his job better.”

Jon rolled his eyes, “Of course you do, we spend every waking moment together. If you didn’t, I’d have you tested for brain failure.” Jon paused. “That’s not the point! Stop changing the subject. How do you drink such... sludge?” Jon glared at the coffee.

“When you’re the youngest of eleven kids, you learn how to feel less childish,” Stephen shrugged. Jon grimaced, but otherwise made no comment. He was about to put some creamer in his cup when he discovered Stephen stole the creamer.

“Stephen, what--” He was silenced by Stephen’s actions. He grabbed Jon’s cup, and poured in two spoons of creamer. Then he scooped up some of the whipped cream from his cake and let it float on top of Jon’s coffee.

“Enjoy!” he grinned, handing back Jon his coffee.

“Sorry I don’t have a cherry for you.”

“You really didn’t have to go that far...” mumbled a now blushing Jon.

“Ah! But I did, Jon!” Stephen’s grin only grew wider.

Just as he was about to take his first sip of customised coffee, Jon then decided that they were done with their dessert, though barely touched and called for the check. Stephen paid for it without a second thought, and made no comment on Jon’s sudden rush to leave.

As they left the cafe, Jon looked back once more to the sign that was on the wall behind Stephen’s head.

“ALL COFFEES WITH APHRODISIAC”

-.-.-

“You didn’t have to pay the check, you know,” said Jon, staring at his feet as they walked back to Stephen’s apartment in the sunset.

“I ALWAYS pay, Jon.” Stephen looked at his friend, they way Jon always managed to look ashamed for every little favour was adorable to Stephen, but he’d rather Jon was happy than sorry.

Jon looked up at Stephen, “But that’s just IT, Stephen, you always pay, but we both know that I get the bigger paycheck. You want to save money by moving, and yet you won’t let me pull my own weight.”

“It’s my JOB, Jonathan, that’s just how it’s always been. And besides, I have you to thank for everything I have today, a dinner or two could never make up for that.” Stephen smiled at Jon, but was only met with a frown.

“You treat me like a girl, Stephen.”

“Maybe so, but you’re MY girl,” he joked. Maybe it was the coffee fumes, maybe it was just how annoyingly chivalrous -- but it made Jon stop walking.

“Really?” Stephen stopped, and walked backwards a few steps to meet back with Jon.

“Well... uh...” Stephen was blushing harder than Jon at this point. Stephen couldn’t make heads or tales of Jon’s tone, and grew worried.

Then Jon pounced. He gave Stephen a big ole bear hug and said, “You’re too nice to me.”

Stephen wasn’t sure, but he thought he felt Jon’s lips on his cheek for the briefest of seconds and was left sputtering and blushing even more than before.

Jon only continued walking, now with a smile on his face and a new spring in his step. He looked over his shoulder, “Well? Are you coming?”

“Y-yeah!” Stephen stuttered, jogging to keep up.

-.-.-

Stephen unlocked the apartment door and hung both his and Jon’s jackets on the coat rack. As if by muscle memory, Jon grabbed the Snuggie and turned the TV on. Stephen was in the kitchenette making popcorn and cocoa, leaving Jon to watch the TV alone for a few minutes.

He flipped through the channels for a few moments, when his eyes caught a gay porno just as Stephen came in with the treats. Lucky for Jon, his thumb had a mind of it’s own and barely three thrusts were to be seen. Jon found it rather odd that a supposedly straight man payed extra for the gay channels.

But Stephen was humming to himself and didn’t notice as he sat close to Jon in the February chill, stealing some of the over-sized Snuggie.

“Jon! Look!” whispered an excited Stephen.

“Snow? Stephen, this is New York. In February. Of course there’s snow.”

“Kill joy,” Stephen muttered.

“Oh, Stephen...” mumbled Jon as he snuggled closer to his friend as the room dropped in temperature.

Stephen stopped all complaints of Jon ignoring his romanticisms of the snow and offered more than just his body heat to Jon -- his companionship and protection as well.

It was so quiet as they watched a romantic comedy, that by the credits hit, Stephen assumed Jon had fallen asleep, “Jon? Are you awake?” Stephen whispered. “You know it’s bad for your back if you sleep like this.”

Jon waited a beat or two before replying. “THAT WAS SO SAD! The girl loved him, but he had an arranged marriage, and she almost didn’t make it to stop them at the alter! THEN, the family hated her because she was poor and -- Oh, Stephen! Why did you let us watch that whole thing?” he replied, looking up to Stephen with large puppy-like eyes.

“Normally we just make fun of the acting, but I should have known you would have taken a girl movie to heart like that.” He grinned and shook his head to show he was joking.

“Well, SORRY I’m sensitive.” Jon pouted and looked back to the credits.

“Oh, come on, Jon, you know I was only teasing you...”

“I know!” smiled Jon, hugging Stephen from their oddly spoon-like position, bending backwards to place a light kiss on Stephen’s jaw. Jon shifted until he was facing Stephen, making sure he didn’t fall off the couch in the process. “Can we go to bed now, Stephen?”

“U-uh, yeah!”

“Don’t be nervous, I just mean to sleep; it IS getting late, in case you haven’t noticed. Unless...?” Jon smirked up at him.

“I can’t even tell when you stopped joking and where you started torturing.”

“Pants too tight?”

“You’re delirious from lack of sleep,” Stephen, ever quick-thinking Stephen, scrambled for a way out. And, no, his pants weren’t too tight, but it was only a matter of time.

“You keep telling yourself that -- you of all people know I think best when I’m running on empty. Now, take me too bed, it’s too cold out here.” Jon yawned as if that made his point.

Stephen grunted as he lifted Jon’s rather light frame. He was going to have to make a point to work out more if he was going to take Jon to bed when they moved in together. He carried Jon to his bed, tucked him in, and headed to the couch.

“Get back here before I castrate you. It’s too cold and -- as you said yourself -- it’s bad for your back,” Jon mumbled into the pillow.

Ignoring his uncertainty in favour of his jewels, Stephen climbed into bed alongside Jon. In sharing each other's heat, they fell asleep easily and quickly.

-.-.-

Jon woke up to a warm bum, which was both unusual as well as welcome. But this left his chest freezing, which was not-so-welcome. He only wondered for a moment as to why the pillow under his head was a warm fleece rather than the cool silk he had at his apartment, before memories of the night before flooded his mind. He supposed that he shouldn’t have acted to forward and reckless with Stephen, but Jon knew his ego was large enough to handle it.

But then again the bastard took the covers, so Jon couldn’t feel to bad. To keep his nipples from cutting any stray glass, he turned himself towards Stephen -- and out of their mid-sleep spoon -- and stole some of the blankets.

“I HAVE A BASEBALL BAT!” shouted Stephen, not even bothering to move away from his pillow.

“Stephen, it’s just me.” Jon cringed from the sudden loudness.

“Oh... Hey, Jonathan,” Stephen mumbled into Jon’s hair, pulling Jon closer. Stephen was too freshly woken to realise that this was not merely a welcome dream, but instead reality.

He began placing small kisses on Jon’s neck, trailing up to his jaw. Stephen was almost up to Jon’s lips before he snapped out of it. “Ah! U-uh... Do you want eggs? I’ll make us some eggs,” Stephen squeaked before running out of the room, banging his shoulder on the door frame on his way out.

Jon winced, feeling Stephen’s pain, and curled under the covers. As he awaited his breakfast, he would plot his confession.

-.-.-

“Jon?” Jon felt a slight pressure on his shoulder, rocking him awake. He turned away, hoping that would make the nuisance leave. “Did you go back to sleep? Are you mad at me? Oh, goodness, Jon. Don’t be mad at me, I didn’t... No, I knew,” Stephen muttered to himself. “I really need to keep myself on a shorter leash...”

Jon shifted, waking up for the second time that morning. He supposed he fell asleep while he was plotting, but his memory was too fuzzy, having been only half-awake at the time. “Stephen. Shut up. I have a headache.”

“O-of course.” Stephen was unsure of whether Jon had heard him muttering to himself and his face flushed immediately. “Well, I brought you breakfast.”

Jon peaked finally out from under the covers and noticed that Stephen couldn’t have his rope wrapped more tightly around his body if he were a birthday present. “Shit, Stephen, I CAN walk, you know. You didn’t have to make me breakfast in bed.”

“I just figured, it’s below freezing outside, and the bed’s warmer, so why not?”

Jon just frowned and stood up with the tray of food. He found Stephen’s plate in the kitchen, and placed it on the tray before heading back to the bedroom. “If you can nag at me like a Jewish grandmother, so can I. Now get back into bed.”

“Your new haircut looks good.” Stephen climbed back into bed. 

“Flattery gets you nowhere when there’s already food in front of me.” Stephen frowned.

“But thanks, I thought they cut off too much in the back...”

“Who would look at the back of your head with a face like that!”

“Thanks.” Jon bumped his shoulder into Stephen’s and giggled.

-.-.-

“Wow, Stephen! These eggs are REALLY good,” Jon said as he shoved another forkful into his mouth.

“Glad you approve of my cooking.” Stephen smiled around a strip of bacon -- kosher, of course, since Jon was Jewish.

Tummies full and in the warmth of the bed, Jon touched Stephen’s leg repeatedly with his own, little touches that drove Stephen mad. Each time, Stephen would only assume Jon was teasing or doing it all accidentally and bite down hard on his fork to stop himself from showing his nervousness.

Jon noticed and smiled to himself. Jon had only pushed away the tray of now-dirty dishes so he could be lazy and deal with it later, but Stephen picked up the tray and hurried out of the room before Jon could protest, probably because he knew he would.

Jon tried to wait patiently, honestly he did, but after three seconds or so, he got bored and headed for the living room.

Stephen was just leaving the kitchen as Jon decided to fake yawn and bump into him. Stephen steadied himself and held Jon by the shoulders, “Are you still tired?” he chucked.

“No, just need my second cup of coffee.”

“Good, I have the pot going already.”

Jon threw a boyish grin at his friend, “You always think of everything.”

“It is my job after all,” Stephen turned to lead Jon to the living room by his waist, a touch that was surprising but welcome. Jon was left to look for something on TV as Stephen made popcorn. The best thing on was a romantic comedy, but Jon figured it could be for the better.

Stephen returned a few minutes later with the popcorn. Jon smiled when he saw that there was chocolate drizzled, making it that much more messy and delicious. Taking a few, Jon scooted close to Stephen and resumed watching the what was on the screen before them.

“Jon... Jon. Jon!”

“Something wrong?” Jon let his eyebrows scrunch in confusion.

“Look at the popcorn.”

“It has chocolate... OH, oh, oh!” Stephen had used the chocolate to spell “VALENTINE?” in his chicken scratch on the popcorn. Stephen slowly reached for the remote control to pause the film, but made no other moves past that. Only urban crickets could be heard, and they were ignored with the suddenly intense atmosphere.

“...Are you going to say anything?” Stephen suddenly wished he had bangs to hide in, and tried hiding behind his eyelashes. Though the effort was futile, Jon did find it adorable.

“I’ve been dropping hints for years -- YEARS, Stephen -- and you’re telling me that all the worry has been for nothing?”

“Years? Fuck, Jon, why didn’t you say something? I’ve been panicking about asking out my best friend and boss, and now you tell me it was mutual?” Stephen took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes in frustration.

Jon didn’t answer with words. Instead he sat on Stephen’s lap and kissed him lightly, making them sink farther into the couch.

Stephen hastily put back on his glasses. “All the wasted time...” Stephen whispered into Jon’s lips before brushing them with his own.

“Does it really matter, now?”

“I just thought it was a bit cliche, is all.” Stephen smirked, remembering how Jon thought his argument for moving in was cliche.

“Well here’s another: Shut up and kiss me.”


End file.
